


That Bright Edge

by fadagaski



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadagaski/pseuds/fadagaski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Shh," Kurt says right against Blaine's lips hovering over his. "You'll wake the kids."</i> Blaine's determined to give Kurt the best blow job of their married life anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Bright Edge

Kurt stumbles through the door in that dark hour before dawn buzzing on champagne and high on life, Blaine's hands cradling his hips and his mouth glued to Kurt's neck. Blaine kicks the door shut with one booted heel and spins them both around, shoving Kurt against the wood. Kurt lets out a sound somewhere between a giggle and a moan, can't help it, feels all of seventeen again and hopelessly in love with this man.

"Shh," he says right against Blaine's lips hovering over his. "You'll wake the kids." He squeaks when a firm hand cups his cock through his too-tight pants, and the other hand winds fingers through his hair.

"Don't care," Blaine growls. Goosebumps cascade across the back of Kurt's neck and down his spine.

"You'll wake - _oh_." Blaine's teeth have latched onto the juncture of Kurt's shoulder, so devastatingly good Kurt feels his knees buckle. "Y-Yasmin, you'll wake Yasmin!"

Blaine pulls back to look Kurt fully in the face. His lips are shiny and swollen from mauling Kurt's stubbled skin, and his eyes are hot black. He always gets like this after a red carpet event, and it never fails to make the whole of Kurt's body throb with need. The fingers tighten in his hair, and it stings and he doesn't want anything else.

"Shut. Up." Even Blaine's voice is an invitation to sin. Kurt wants to eat the vowels right out of his mouth, cranes forward to taste the consonants behind his teeth but Blaine's fingers won't let him. Kurt whines – loudly.

The hand over his cock moves, despite the desperate roll of his hips, to pick at Kurt's button and zipper. In seconds his dick is free and Blaine is on his knees, tuxedo be damned. He looks up through his lashes at Kurt, and his eyes are like burning. "Quiet," he says, and then he swallows Kurt's cock whole.

Kurt nearly concusses himself, his head slams back against the door so hard, and he can't help the broken moan that issues forth. His fingers creep into Blaine's hair, even though it's gelled, even though Blaine doesn't like it. Hands grab at his, hold them back against the door so Kurt can't do anything. He's pinned there like a butterfly on display, just Blaine's hands and his hot wet mouth and the decadent drag of his tongue as it grinds over the head and eye of Kurt's cock.

It's a quick finish. Kurt would be embarrassed if he had any coherent thought. As it is, he barely keeps his feet under him as he comes down Blaine's throat, whimpering high and reedy and too loud for this time of the morning, nails digging crescents in the back of Blaine's hands.

Blaine surges up as Kurt slumps, boneless. His lips are bright hot against Kurt's, and smeared with the taste of come. Kurt moans, gives kittenish licks into Blaine's mouth but doesn't have the energy for more. Blaine sucked it right out of him, and now all that's left is the sloshy champagne and grit in his eyes and warm, sated love for this curly-haired monster in front of him.

"You killed me," Kurt murmurs, burying his face in the crook of Blaine's neck where it smells of sweat and the last of his cologne.

"Not yet I haven't," Blaine says, and he thrusts just once, just as a reminder. The material of his pants is unbearably rough against Kurt's sensitised skin; he gasps and pulls away, but Blaine's got him boxed in, and it's not like he'd rather be anywhere else. Blaine bites at his ear lobe, licks the sting away and whispers dark as chocolate in Kurt's ear, "Bed. Now."

Before Kurt can do more than whine, Blaine's scooped him up and tossed him over one shoulder. Kurt squeaks and flails, pants tangling around his knees and the champagne twisting all his veins inside his head. "What are you doing?" he shrieks.

"Bed," Blaine repeats firmly, and staggers to the stairs. Kurt's way too tall for this, Blaine's not strong enough – he's a kindergarten teacher, not a goddamn fireman – but they get to the stairs without falling, and then they get up the stairs without falling, and Kurt can feel himself rubbing to hardness against Blaine's shoulder even though he feels like an idiot with his bare ass inches from Blaine's face.

He whumps against the mattress when Blaine drops him, and the room spins so fast for a second that he grips the comforter tight in his fists. Then Blaine's on him, a welcome distraction from the dip and roll of Kurt's stomach, and his teeth are sharp on Kurt's bottom lip and down the length of his jaw. Kurt writhes beneath the hard press of Blaine's body. There are definitely too many clothes in the way – Blaine's still got his bow tie neat and knotted at the base of his throat, how is that fair? – and Kurt mewls as his fingers tangle in the awkward length of silk.

"Off," he mutters against Blaine's insistent lips. "Off. Clothes. Off."

Blaine wastes no time in attacking Kurt's shirt, teeth bared in a snarl at the row of tiny buttons like they've personally offended him. He finally gives up and just pulls, pitter-pattering buttons across the wooden floor. Kurt would mourn the loss, but Blaine's biting his way across Kurt's exposed chest, his stubble a shuddering rasp across the tender buds of his nipples and the hill of his lowest ribs and the delicate concave of his belly. It almost tickles, except for how it rips through Kurt's nerves like fire, making him gasp and whimper and bite his lip.

Kurt's not prepared for hot wet suction around his cock for the second time that night. He arches off the bed with a barely-strangled scream trapped in his throat as Blaine bobs his head without mercy, his fingers bruisingly tight on Kurt's hips.

"Blaine! Blaine!" Kurt cries, and he knows he should be quiet because of the kids but he can't, he _can't_ when Blaine's sucking him with greedy enthusiasm, slurping and humming like Kurt's cock is the most obscene popsicle ever made. "Please! I –"

One hand releases his hip and skims up his chest, trails over his Adams apple to slide over Kurt's bottom lip and into his mouth. His teeth clamp around three warm callused fingers, and he lets go his deathgrip on the comforter to wrap both hands around Blaine's sturdy wrist. Kurt's so grateful to have something to do with his mouth other than babble, he sucks for all he's worth, laving over and under and between Blaine's fingers with a nimble tongue. There's spit sliding from the corner of his mouth down his cheek but he doesn't care. Blaine's tonguing in a circle around the head of Kurt's cock, corkscrewing inwards to the eye and the steady pulse of precome gathering there. Kurt sucks harder.

Blaine's got rough nails, and they scratch over Kurt's lip when he pulls his fingers back out, skirting cool and wet down Kurt's chest. Kurt tries to part his legs, whimpering again now that his mouth is free because he wants those fingers in him and he wants them _now_ , but he's still wearing his goddamn pants, they're tangled at his ankles and stuck there because of his goddamn _shoes_ , and Blaine –

Blaine's on his belly with his head between Kurt's thighs, swallowing around Kurt's cock. His weight is pressing down on Kurt's aggravating pants, doesn't even seem to notice or care that there are a pair of pointy shoes digging into his gut.

"Blaaaine," Kurt whines, and wiggles his hips and legs. Blaine gives an annoyed grunt and throws an arm over Kurt's waist, holding him down under his ridiculous bicep while his other hand skates over the curve of Kurt's ass. His fingers leave a wet trail that raises goosebumps in their wake.

It's sheer instinct for Kurt to open to Blaine like a blooming flower when he presses two fingers to Kurt's hole. They've been doing this for twenty years, and each time is just as stunning, makes Kurt's breath catch as his body draws Blaine's fingers inside. He immediately presses against Kurt's prostate, his calluses catching rough and perfect and Kurt's back arches again even with Blaine's arm pinning him down. He wails, once, the sound shockingly loud to his own ears, and bites down on the fleshy meat of his palm to stifle the string of curses that want to spill out.

Blaine's watching him again, eyes dark and powerful and his lips stretched obscenely around Kurt's cock – so hard and engorged it's almost purple – whilst his fingers flex the ring of Kurt's ass and grind over his prostate again, and then again. His tongue skids once over the head of Kurt's dick before he pulls off with a slick pop.

"Turn over," he rasps. Kurt loves it when Blaine's reduced to this, barely verbal and so demanding. He just wishes he had the mental capacity to understand what he wants.

"W-what?"

"Turn over."

Kurt can barely think with Blaine's fingers – three, there's at least three, though he doesn't remember when the third one went in – thrusting in and out. And then they're yanked out of him, and he cries out, and squeaks again when Blaine grabs his hips and just flips Kurt onto his belly.

The comforter is painful against his cock and he rocks into it anyway. At least he can bury his face against the mattress and scream and scream, and that's exactly what he does when Blaine hauls Kurt to his knees and shoves his face between his ass cheeks.

The feel of stubble scratching harsh and familiar against tender skin is enough to make Kurt pray to a God he doesn't believe in. Coupled with the slick, pointed tongue worming inside and Kurt's almost crying, his whole body shaking and his cock throbbing and everything is too much. Blaine shuffles so close his hunched shoulders brush the backs of Kurt's thighs, and his fingers are firm on his ass as he pulls his cheeks apart.

"Hold yourself," Blaine says, and Kurt wriggles to obey, his hands gripping half over Blaine's as he balances himself between his knees and his forehead. His cock bobs against his belly, twitching with every sudden thrust of Blaine's tongue, and then there's a hand and it's stripping Kurt's cock at a furious pace while Blaine delves deeper, tongue piercing and his breath fanning over wet skin and a thumb tugging at Kurt's rim.

He comes like that, precariously balanced and everything he is offered up to Blaine like a smorgasbord on a silver platter. Biting into the comforter to stifle his cries, Kurt rolls back onto Blaine's tongue and forward into his fist and shakes apart. He barely gets his hands back under him whilst trying to catch his breath, and then Blaine's there with his hands firm on Kurt's hips and the zipper of his pants digging into Kurt's soft skin and his cock nudging at Kurt's hole. Kurt whimpers, because he's so sensitive and he knows it's going to be too much, but he rolls his hips back anyway.

Blaine groans as he sinks in that first inch, reverberating through Kurt's body, and he pushes in all the way without stopping. Kurt's mouth opens on a scream, but he's breathless still, all that potential energy shaking through his nerves. Blaine pulls out, thrusts back in, big and undeniable. He's too spent to get it up again, but Kurt loves this too, loves that Blaine wants him so much he can't help himself, setting up a fast pace that echoes with his grunts and the slap of pelvis against ass.

"God, Kurt," Blaine chokes. Kurt clenches down, rides the shudder up his spine, and braces as Blaine comes, hips jerking over and over.

Tension suddenly cut, Blaine collapses against Kurt's back and they both flump onto the mattress. It takes a long moment for Blaine to catch his breath, longer still for Kurt as Blaine isn't exactly a lightweight. Kurt can feel himself drifting off to sleep, even in his ruined shirt and his pants and his damn shoes and lying in the wet spot. He barely twitches when Blaine pulls out of him, is half-aware of movement, his limbs lifting without any direction from him.

"... Blaine?" he calls, when he's starting to get cold.

"I'm here," Blaine murmurs. He slips under the comforter and somehow manages to manhandle Kurt underneath as well – out of the wet spot at last, his shoes and shirt gone. Strong arms wrap around Kurt, holding him close against a firm chest and the steady heartbeat within. "You were amazing tonight. Everyone loved you," Blaine whispers against his hair.

"You too?"

Blaine laughs softly. "I always love you," he says.

"Mmm. Love you," Kurt sighs. He spares a thought for the kids, hopefully asleep in their beds and none the wiser to their fathers' antics, and the blush of dawn creeping through the closed blinds, and then he closes his eyes and lets Blaine's heartbeat woo him to sleep.


End file.
